Few can survive for very long on the frozen wastes the Nekrium call home. They pay the harsh climate little concern, however, as most of them have been dead for years. The Nekrium are masters of death magic. While some living human practitioners remain among their ranks, the bulk of their number are mindless zombies and skeletons, the reanimated corpses of outsiders who died within their borders in some foolish quest for immortality. Only those whose lives are extinguished in necromantic rituals return as the higher forms of undeath that sit upon the ruling council of the Nekrium.
Nekrium society is strictly divided by caste, with position in the hierarchy determined by the manner of one’s death. Those who serve the faction faithfully are “returned”, as it is called, among the higher castes. Perishing in combat might see a member returned among the Grimgaunt, the skeletal warrior elite. A talented necromancer might offer up his own life to be returned as a lich. The most loyal and able among the living are chosen by King Varna himself to be returned as his retainers and serve by his side. This promise of everlasting honor, and the fear of spending eternity among the dredge, makes the Nekrium a fanatical lot.
The home of the Nekrium is a ruin from some ancient age. Crumbling towers and toppled ramparts provide little protection from attack, but the denizens seem to care little. Every so often, an ambitious newcomer hopes to curry favor with a campaign to rebuild the shattered walls, only to find his hopes for an honored unlife dashed as the plan is met with the ire of King Varna. While the King refuses to see the walls of the city repaired, he has overseen the construction of vast tombs beneath the frozen earth to house his legions of undead. The King himself resides in a dark spire that rises high above the wastes. It is whispered that he has called the same chambers home since before the city fell.
The Solitude of Death
Few seek out the Nekrium in their realm, and they care little for the other factions, so they rarely have contact with outsiders. The reclusive necromancers see the Alloyin’s triumph over their own mortality through machines as commendable, but have little patience for the rash and reckless Tempys. At times, their relations with the Uterrans have devolved into open hostility, and even in peace they reluctantly tolerate the subterranean fey at best.